


The Beginning of a Beautiful Friendship.

by queenbookwench



Category: Princess Series - Jim C. Hines
Genre: Gen, Misses Clause Challenge, Yuletide 2011
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-22
Updated: 2011-12-22
Packaged: 2017-10-27 19:39:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/299341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queenbookwench/pseuds/queenbookwench
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Beatrice Whiteshore, Queen of Lorindar, was having a hell of a morning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Beginning of a Beautiful Friendship.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Phantom](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phantom/gifts).



> Dear Phantom,
> 
> You asked for the story of "how Beatrice got so awesome", and this is...not quite that story. It's more _a_ story of Beatrice being awesome, with a bit of personal fanon about how she got that way--but it's the story that grabbed hold of my brain and wanted to be written.
> 
> I hope you enjoy it nonetheless! I certainly enjoyed writing it. Any errors within are entirely my own, and thanks are due to my very kind last-minute beta, who graciously gave her time to help make this a better story.

Beatrice Whiteshore, queen of Lorindar, was having a hell of a morning. She'd slept restlessly all night, then been hit with a blinding vision right at the breakfast table. And now she had to figure out what the hell she was going to do about said vison.  All the coffee in the world wasn't going to fix this, but she was having some anyway.

 

 _Very well then_ , she told herself, _step one—conference of state._   She headed down the corridor with what some might consider unqueenly speed; Theodore  was in his weekly meeting with the Chancellor of the Exchequer, and she figured old Lord Archibald would give way with a minimum of fuss.

She restrained herself from bursting into the room, instead nodding to the members of the Royal Guard outside the door.  One of them rapped on the door, announced “Her Majesty, Queen Beatrice,” then swung it open with a slight creak. 

 

Theodore turned and smiled broadly, “Come to rescue me from the wool tariffs, my dear?”

 

“Somehow, I doubt you'll consider it rescue, my love.”

 

“Ah well, I didn't think so, but there's always a first time.” 

 

Lord Archibald gave an inquiring cough.

 

“Pardon me,” Beatrice said, “I'm afraid I need to borrow my husband for a moment to discuss urgent matters of state.”

 

“Of course, your majesty, whatever you like.  Only return him in one piece, mind.  These tariffs won't adjust themselves.”

 

As soon as he left, Beatrice turned to Theodore, “What do you think of Alessandria?”

 

“Ever since we returned from that goodwill visit years ago, I try to think of Alessandria as little as possible.  But since you asked: cold, full of magicians, and their bloody queen the most dangerous of the lot.  We've had damned poor luck keeping agents there—as well you know.  I'm assuming you've some reason for asking?”

 

“I had a vision this morning.  It was a bad one; I nearly fell face-first into the toast.  And if my understanding of it is correct, Queen Rose is dead.  Killed, to be exact.”

 

“Good riddance!  I'd wondered—very quietly—if we'd truly be able to stand against her, should she turn her attention to Lorindar.  I'm not seeing how _we_ fit into this vision, though—enlighten me?”

 

“I caught a glimpse of Queen Rose's killer: a young woman, had to be a relative by the look of her. At any rate, the feeling attached to the vision is that this girl is important somehow, and that we need to get to Alessandria soonest.  I couldn't piece together any more than that.”

 

They departed later that morning, on Captain Williamson's ship rather than Captain Hephyra's; no sense in attracting attention by sailing a fairy craft.

 

Theodore had clapped their son Armand genially on the shoulder and said, “Right, son, try not to break the kingdom while we're gone.” 

 

Despite her sure knowledge that Lord Archibald and the rest of the Privy Council had an exhaustive briefing planned for Armand, to commence immediately after their departure, Beatrice winced.  “Don't give him _ideas_ , dear.”

 

“Eh, he's got to start sometime.”

 

The chaos at the port was such that they were able to slip in quietly, attracting little notice, and the city of Kanastius was in turmoil when they arrived. Angry mobs of citizens collided with brutal reprisals by the Palace Guard, still deeply loyal to Queen Rose.

 

Slowly, carefully, they worked their way around to the Royal Way, where they were just in time to see the procession.  A young woman, clearly the same young woman from Beatrice's vision, was being led into the city in chains; despite her torn, stained shift, twig-infested black hair, and scratched, bruised skin, she was radiantly beautiful. She stared straight ahead for the most part, but fixed her forbidding, ice-blue gaze on any member of the crowd who dared to get too close. 

 

And there were some who tried; some of the men clearly viewed the bosom imperfectly covered by her shift as an invitation to lewd catcalls and worse, while others crowded in wanting to touch her hand to thank her for delivering them from a tyrant. The guards turned all comers away; a dangerous witch she might be, but still a princess for all that.  The signs displayed along the streets reflected a similar range of sentiments--”Free the Princess,” “Kill the Witch,” “Like Mother, Like Daughter?” and a panoply of other colorful slogans.

 

Beatrice had suspected the identity of the young woman in her vision, but hadn't been certain until now. She felt a sudden, forceful wave of memory wash over her, recalling her only other visit to Alessandria, many years earlier. 

 

 _Beatrice stood at the entrance to the Great Hall, her arm in Theodore's, forcing herself to stand utterly poised and still.  Where was this nervousness coming from? It wasn't like her; during a job she almost never felt nerves, only a cool focus. But this was different.  This goodwill tour was her first mission as Princess Beatrice, married woman and future queen of Lorindar.  The role still felt a bit like an ill-fitting gown and for a moment she yearned for the more familiar garb of Lady Beatrice, noble-yet-vaguely-disreputable spymaster's daughter.  Theodore, sensing her mood, squeezed her arm lightly, and she smiled.  That right there was why she put up with all the nonsense associated with royalty._

 _  
_

_At last the herald announced them, and they stepped into the room, now transformed into an opulent ballroom.  The changes wrought in 24 hours were impressive, and Beatrice was certain that at least some of them had been accomplished by magic.  All she was able to take in at first was a swirl of light and color, dominated by the white, black, and red shades favored by Queen Rose.  The intoxicating scent of roses filled the air. If this was a spectacle meant to overawe the foreign visitors, it was certainly working on her._

 _  
_

_At last, the king and queen entered, the very model of a royal couple.  The king never seemed to leave the queen's side, as devoted and solicitous as one of his own hunting hounds, and she, in turn,  gazed at him often, with a certain burning intensity.  Beatrice wanted to find it romantic—they were a love match, like herself and Theodore, only much more glamorous.  Instead, she found it...unsettling.  Was it only the lighting that made the king look pale, his eyes a little cloudy?_

 _  
_

_The atmosphere of giddy, slightly debauched luxury made it difficult for her to keep a clear head._ Get ahold of yourself _, she whispered,_ remember the mission _.  In any other kingdom, she might have been able to let herself relax and simply enjoy the dancing. But this was Alessandria.  Lorindar, which neither embraced magic nor forbade it, had always viewed their schools of witchcraft with a wary eye. And there were disturbing rumors about what went on the kingdom these days. She and Theodore were meant to be playing a very specific part—convincing the rulers (or, as was rumored,_ ruler) _that Lorindar was too poor and rustic to be of interest, yet also_ _fully capable of defending itself._

 

 _Queen Rose's voice shook Beatrice abruptly out of her reverie._ “Before our revels begin, I would like to introduce to you Our daughter, Princess Ermillina. Is she not lovely?” 

 

 _All eyes turned to the entrance of the hall, where a child was being solemnly promenaded to the king and queen's side by a liveried servant. She looked to be scarcely older than their Armand, who was still in the nursery, yet she moved as silently and exquisitely as a living doll, her wide blue eyes and red lips showing no expression at all. She was a perfect miniature of her mother._

 _  
_

“To open our festivities, Ermillina shall play for us, a piece on the violin.”

 

 _The performance was note-perfect. Theodore, who'd had the sort of cultural education expected of royalty, whispered to her during the dutiful applause that it was quite a challenging piece for a child her age._

 _“_ Poor kid,” _Beatrice murmured, not quite under her breath; the stolid young noble standing nearby gave her a speaking look and arched his eyebrows in agreement._

 

 _As the child processed out of the hall, the servant at her heels, Beatrice caught her eye and dared a wink. In response, the girl's rosy lips had turned upward just a bit—not_ quite _a smile—and an unmistakeable gleam of intelligence and humor came into her eyes. Beatrice turned to the young noble._

 

“I'm afraid that our guide to Alessandria neglected to mention that Their Majesties had a daughter.  Now that we are aware, we must certainly include some trifles for her in our goodwill gift. Perhaps you'd be kind enough to tell me where noble families here in Kanastius purchase such things for their children.”

 

 _The young man—Laurence was his name—offered to take them to visit his family's favorite toymaker the very next day. Somehow Beatrice felt certain the conversation would be rather more far-ranging than the merits of dolls or storybooks._

 

A sharp elbow from someone pushing through the crowd recalled her back to the present. Perhaps it was time to see if Laurence, whom they'd cultivated so briefly all those years ago, would live up to his promise.

 

The next day, Bea and Theodore moved swiftly, using equal parts subterfuge and bribery to obtain a prominent position in the Great Hall, where the Nobles' Circle would begin Princess Ermillina's trial.  When the guards led her in, Princess Ermillina was clean and composed, wearing a severely plain white dress.  Beatrice saw in her silent dignity a deliberate rebuke to the assemblage.

 

As soon as she reached her designated place, Lord Ollear Curtana, who was chairing the proceedings, gestured for order and made as if to speak.

 

But Princess Ermilina spoke first, “Please, good people, let me speak for just a moment.” Her voice was low, rich, and melodic, seeming to float over the crowd. “I understand that I am to be tried today. However, I must tell you all that whatever story Queen Rose told you to explain my absence these past two years, I assure it was not the truth.”

 

The crowd began to buzz, and Lord Ollear at last found his voice.

 

“While all this is very interesting, Princess,” he said, “such testimony is really more appropriate for a later--”

 

“Very well,” the Princess interjected.  “I have only one simple request; I had believed my father to be dead—Queen Rose was at pains to tell me so.  But I have just learned that he still lives, but is dying, is perhaps on his deathbed even now.  May it please you, good people of the Nobles' Court, to grant a recess and give me leave to see my father, the King? It has been two years.”  Her voice quavered slightly at those last words.

 

 _Well played, Princess, well played_ , Beatrice thought, as the Nobles' Court erupted in debate.

 

“Let the princess see her father,” said one elderly lord. “What's the harm, really?”

 

“Nonsense!” boomed another. “Can't have her seeing the king at this stage—just going to upset him to no purpose.”

 

“What if she decides to ah, exercise her powers on him, the way she's alleged to have done to Queen Rose?” 

 

The princess's pale cheeks turned red at this, but pressed her lips firmly shut.

 

Theodore and Beatrice looked at each other, seeing their moment. Princess Ermillina was setting them up as well as if she'd been briefed—though Laurence was probably too cautious to have actually done so...

 

"Perhaps I might be of assistance," Theodore's clear, strong voice cut through the babble, as he simultaneously stepped forward and swept off his cloak.  “I am King Theodore of  Lorindar.   Those of you who were at court during our previous visit will remember me, as well as my lovely wife Queen Beatrice—though of course I was only Prince Theodore then. We were invited to Alessandria on _this_ occasion by a member of your court who wishes to remain anonymous, to serve as observers during this unfortunate and difficult time and to help ensure the safe and peaceful succession that I am sure you all desire.  The  very fact that we were able to enter the kingdom, the city, and finally the palace without being discovered indicates that such a succession is urgently needed. Princess Ermillina is currently the designated heir to that succession.  As such, she has certain privileges, whatever the accusations against her.  I fail to see how forbidding her a visit to her dying father's bedside serves justice in any way. Indeed, my wife and I will be happy to accompany her, to ensure the proprieties are observed."

 

Beatrice smiled to herself as she watched Theodore work the room; his ability to sway people with his words, voice, and physical presence had never ceased to amaze her. She'd always been better at the sort of persuasion that involved private conversations in dark hallways and, occasionally, daggers.  Not that she was really supposed to be doing her own persuasion anymore—future queens weren't supposed to have _any_ fun, apparently.

 

The babble of dissenting voices swirled around them once again, until Laurence spoke.  “King Theodore speaks eloquently and what he says is sensible.  I propose that Princess Ermillina be granted leave to attenher father's bedside.  And, in addition to King Theodore and Queen Beatrice, Lord Ollear and myself shall also attend.”

 

Lord Ollear appeared startled, but quickly agreed. “We are not monsters, after all. ”  He appeared not to notice Princess Ermillina mouthing the words _Like hell you aren't_.

 

 _Interesting_ , Beatrice thought.

 

The guards led Princess Ermillina through opulent palace corridors to the small, silent room where the king lay on a bed that seemed much too large for his wasted frame.

 

The palace healer bustled up, then quailed before Princess Ermillina's glare.  She strode toward the bedside and Ollear, Laurence, Beatrice and Theodore stepped with her.

 

“Am I to be allowed no privacy?” she asked. “My father is dying, and I have not seen or spoken to him in two years.  If anyone in this room is a threat to him, it it certainly not myself.”

 

Beatrice fancied she glared especially hard at Lord Ollear.

 

Everyone stepped back a pace or two, while Princess Ermillina moved forward and stroked her father's shoulder.  His eyes opened slowly.  “Rose? My love, is that you?”

 

“No, father,” she murmured, “It's Lina. Remember?”

 

“You look more like your mother every day. So lovely. You've grown up while you've been away. I've missed you, my dear.”

 

“I've missed you too,” her voice wobbled the slightest bit.

 

“Your nerves—they're better, then?  You look so fresh—Rose must have been right about the mountain air.”

 

“My nerves are fine. I've never felt healthier in my life.”  Her voice was cheerful and bright, but Beatrice could see how tightly her hands clutched at the bed railing.

 

“ 'M damned sorry, m'dear.” His voice had begun to slur a bit. “You must have gotten 'em from my side of the family, for Rose never had a nerve in her life. Hope you'll take after her in the end, be luckier than I've been.”

 

“How are you, Father? Really?"

 

"Oh, Lina. Has your mother told you nothing?"

 

She shook her head, tears in her eyes.

 

“Ah well, I suppose she didn't want to worry you while you were away.  I didn't want you to go, you know, but that's the wish of a selfish old man. No need to keep you here to see me die.  No good for a sensitive young girl, that's what Rose said...”

 

Priness Ermillina reached down and embraced him gently around the shoulders.

 

“There now,” he said. “The doctors say it'll be quick. I'm not in much pain anymore.  Only it's been so long, and I'm so tired.  I wish your mother would come see me, but I understand It's hard for her, seeing weakness. Always has been.”

 

He squeezed her hand, “Think I'll go back to sleep now. Don't grieve too much, Lina.  I know you'll be a good, strong queen one day. Like your mother.”

 

She kissed his forehead and turned away, now openly weeping.  As they left the room, she reached out and grabbed hold of the healer's coat.

 

“Woodson,” she said, “if you've ever cared for my father—and since you're Mother's creature I doubt you ever have—but if you have, even for a moment, make sure it _is_ quick and painless. And don't let him hear anything upsetting about Mother...or me.  It would break him.  Do I make myself understood?”

 

He nodded, eyes unreasonably terrified of a young woman surrounded by chaperones.

 

Afterward, Beatrice and Theodore had met with Laurence privately to offer their support—and a request.

 

“Get me in to see her tonight,” Beatrice said, “Alone. I don't care how you do it, but I want to speak to the girl myself.”

 

“But I—that is to say—the risk--”

 

“Laurence, surely this not too difficult for a man of your resources.  If it were, I must say I've have to wonder about your ability to handle the nest of intrigue that is the Alessandrian court.”

 

Some hours later, she slipped into the princess's room—luxuriously equipped but still a cell. The guards had all been mysteriously called elsewhere.

 

“Princess Ermillina, it's good to speak to your freely at last.”

 

The young woman fixed her with a hard stare. “First of all, don't call me that. Only one person is allowed to call me Lina, and everyone else who matters calls me Snow White.”

 

“Very well then, Snow.”

 

“I remember you now—you gave me a spyglass when I was small, when you visited the palace. Mother said it was common, but I loved it. This is terribly rude of me, I know, but I'm afraid I've used up all my etiquette for today.  Why are you here?”

 

“Here in your cell, or here in Alessandria?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“I am here in Alessandria because of a vision—I have them from time to time.  They can be difficult to interpret at times, but this one seemed to indicate that you, specifically, were both important and endangered. And I am here in your cell because I wanted to meet you without a great crowd of nobles watching our every move. And since you asked me a question, Prin—Snow--I think it's only fair that I ask you one in return.”

 

Snow nodded. “Fair enough.”

 

“Why are you still here, Snow? You're a powerful witch, perhaps as powerful as Rose Curtana herself.  Why haen't you used that power to escape?  At the height of her regime, it might have been impossible, but in this chaos, it shouldn't be too difficult for someone of your talents.”

 

“I'm not sure...I suppose because I _could_ escape but I'm not sure I could do it without killing someone who maybe isn't innocent, but _is_ just doing his job, going along because he feels he has to, like—like Roland was, before he started to see me as a human being. Because,” she whispered, “if I did that, if I escaped and left a trail of bodies in my wake, then I really would be like my mother.”

 

“What do you want, Snow White?  I mean, what do you truly want, deep down where most people aren't allowed to see?”

 

“That's two questions more than I agreed to, you know.”

 

“Yes.”

 

The only thing I want is to be back at our cabin, sitting across the table from Roland, learning a spell while he cleans his crossbow or something, and later we'd make love...just to have back one perfect, ordinary day...Oh, and I wouldn't mind bringing Mother back to life and killing her a few more times for what she did to him. 

 

"Since I can't have any of that, I want it all to _mean_ something, dammit.  I don't care what happens to me, but I don't want it all to be for nothing.”

 

Beatrice gave her a soft-eyed look.  “Snow, you may not believe me now, but a time may come again when you care whether you live or die. Unfortunately, I believe I see the shape of the danger in my vision—you are too powerful and look far too much like your mother.  Also, Queen Rose has had two years to poison the minds of the court and the people against you. You know she implied you were going mad?”

 

“After that interview with Father, I suspected something like that, and Lord Ollear couldn't resist spelling it out for me later. Bastard.”

 

“As much as they feared her, the court has also far too accustomed to following her will. And of course, many will find it all to easy to disbelieve your story, since it is to their advantage to do so.  And after all , there is very little hard evidence for you to present.”

 

“There was barely enough left of Roland for me to bury. She always was good at covering her tracks—I _know_ she caused Father's illness, but I could never find proof.”

 

“What I am trying to say is--I do not believe they will let you live, not without some interference. But my husband and I have been talking to your cousin Laurence and we have a plan. We won't force it on you, but if you agree, we will do everything in our power to ensure its success.”

 

And she proceeded to lay out their strategy in detail.

 

“You promise it will work, that I'll be safe?”

 

Beatrice looked at Snow for a long moment, then shook her head.

 

“No. I don't make promises like that.”

 

Snow let out a short, sharp laugh. “Thank goodness.  I'd have lost all respect for you if you had.”

 

As Beatrice slipped out into the corridor, she smiled.  If they pulled this off, well...she'd always wanted a daughter. Not that she'd tell Snow right away; better to work up to it gradually.

 

 

The Beginning

 

 

 


End file.
